Page 47 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

With Appleton, she played a different part. She still needed to be eye-catching, of course, but with her arm looped through his, she had to look like she belonged. Appleton didn’t need the illusion of a mistress or a jazz club singer. He needed someone to be taken seriously as a potential wife. The Royal Ascot counted the British royal family among its audience; it was not a place to seem shabby or common.

To fit in with the likes of Appleton was only marginally more challenging a role than her usual fare. She had too much practice playing too many parts since swimming into London’s high-society to fail now.

Appleton was obviously well respected, even if he wasn't entirely comfortable rubbing elbows with his peers. He came from the kind of family other old-money families kept tabs on, keeping track of one another’s business dealings and marriages, which were often synonymous. For Appleton, notorious bachelor that he was, showing up to one of England's most popular racing events with a woman on his arm — a new-money socialite, no less — immediately made him the centre of everyone's attention. And centre stage was where Deepa thrived, no matter the circumstance.

Appleton was in a rose grey suit of the finest linen for the summer weather, his tie pink, while Deepa’s dress was carnelian red, with the largest hat imaginable pinned in place atop her up-do. The wide-brimmed hat was buttercup yellow to bring out her dress’s lighter shades, as her lipstick and rouge served to highlight its redder tones. Together, they made a sophisticated pair, and though she was without an engagement ring, whispers were already swirling.

On the track, one of the announcers was calling out the horses’ names and numbers as the jockeys lined up behind the gate. The horses jostled, all tossing heads and stamping hooves, champing restlessly at the bit, knowing what was coming and eager to run. The horses’ names didn’t mean anything to Deepa, nor probably to most of the onlookers, but Appleton and his equestrian colleagues paid attention as if they were to be tested later.

“You don’t strike me as a betting man,” Deepa said, tucking herself under his arm to press against his side in a rustle of skirts, looking every bit the attentive date. “But tell me, how do people guess which one is going to win?”

“If they’re being serious about it, they’ll know each of the horses’ pedigrees and track records. For many of these horses, this is their first race, though people may have been following their training. Conformation also plays a role in the betting, and you can reliably judge a horse’s looks without knowing anything of their background. Good conformation is king, above all.”

“Who would you suggest I stake my money on, then?”

“The race is starting. Bets are closed now.”

She leaned more of her weight against him, urging him to stop scowling at the track and look at her, instead. “I know that, darling. I'm not actually placing bets. Play along.”

“I would put my money on the dark bay colt in green,” Appleton said reluctantly. “His sire won the Epsom Derby last year, and his dam comes from a Spanish line to which I'm partial. He looked good in the warm-ups, with a long stride and a level head.”

That all sounded perfectly good to Deepa, and meant absolutely nothing to her. “I’ll bet on that silver-looking one with the white stockings.”

“The filly on the outside? Why her?”

“I like the colour,” Deepa said truthfully. It reminded her of Roz’s hair.

Roz, who still wasn’t her true love. Their goodbye kiss on Sunday after they had tentatively committed to taking their relationship more seriously had failed to break her curse; so too had all their kisses on Monday evening, stolen in a tiny window after Roz had finished her day’s work at the garage. They couldn't spend every day and night together, no matter how they might have liked to, not with Roz needing to keep a schedule at the garage, even if Deepa’s time was more flexible.

For all that Roz’s kisses were clearly not what the curse-breaking required, Deepa couldn’t bring herself to cut things off and go hunting for a new potential love. Being with Roz felt right, even if it wasn’t perfect. Deepa had never believed in love; there was no reason to feel hurt by its lack now.

A sharp crack from the starting pistol split the air, the gate clanged open, and the horses flew out in a thunder of hoofbeats. Around them, the stands erupted in cheers and shouts as onlookers egged their chosen horses on, but Deepa was more interested in studying the people around her than in the race. It was her job to make a convincing partner for Appleton, and she needed to know whether people were paying them the correct amount of attention.

Besides the whispers fluttering nearby, she caught more than one stolen glance from the corner of her eye. Appleton must truly have been a solitary figure prior to their arrangement, if all it took to get people talking was a pretty girl on his arm for a single afternoon. Still, rumours were strange beasts, and Deepaknew how quickly they could go running off with a life of their own, far from their originator’s intent.

“Put your arm around my waist,” she murmured in Appleton’s ear.

“Pardon?”

“You’re being far too polite and proper with me. You don’t want anyone looking at the two of us and assuming I'm like a sister to you.”

“You look nothing like my sister.”

“A cousin, then. A distant relative; it doesn’t matter. Just put your arm around me, put your hand lower than you think it should be, and act enamoured.”

Dutifully, Appleton embraced her, placing his hand against her lower back like he was afraid her dress might bite him. He was doing his best, but he was far more occupied by the race than by her company as the horses charged into the homestretch. Watching them, Appleton was tense, radiating disapproval as if expecting a disaster at any moment.

“What on earth are you afraid is going to happen?” she asked. The horses all looked focused on the track ahead, the jockeys competent, so it wasn’t as if they were waiting for chaos to break out at any second.

“Accidents aren’t uncommon at the races,” Appleton replied through gritted teeth, not taking his gaze from the track.

The first horse, a leggy chestnut, swept over the finish line, and the crowd absolutely exploded. Second came Appleton’s bay colt, followed by all the others running in a tight pack, from which Deepa was just able to pick out her silver filly at the forefront.

It was only when the last horse crossed the finish line without incident that Appleton relaxed, and Deepa realised he’d been holding his breath for the horses’ safety.

“Second and third!” she said brightly, facing him so she could throw both arms around his neck. “That's not bad, is it? Come on, give me a kiss to celebrate.”

She had no doubt the kiss looked as playful as it did passionate, but it felt like nothing at all when his lips met hers. Though she was a consummate actress, she felt not the faintest spark for him, not even a bloom of warmth from the physical contact. He wasn’t as good an actor; she could tell he didn’t feel anything either, but none of that mattered as long as they looked convincing.

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